


Fluency

by PreciselyVex (CrashEdit)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BDSM (implied), F/M, Manipulative Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:00:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrashEdit/pseuds/PreciselyVex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock ascribes to The Scientific Method, even when it comes to personal relationships.<br/>(So enjoy it while it lasts...)</p><p>FYI: No Beta, no Britpick, you have been warned...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fluency

**Author's Note:**

> First work posted -- just logged in to AO3 this afternoon and thought I should write a story as a sort of inauguration. A quickie that ended up sadder than I'd intended, but never fear - there will be much more porny goodness in the works to follow!  
> Stay tuned...

 

 

 

You long for his attention because it’s so often diverted elsewhere…on a case, in a book, bound by experiments or heightened by chemicals.

You know his profile by heart.

That’s why, when he does turn to you, when he chooses to aim the full barrel of his curious mind your way, it can be overwhelming. Intoxicating. Heady. You imagine the wheels turning in his brain, with you as their subject.

And you wonder, always, what it is that he sees in you.

Because you know you’re not truly deserving of this exceptional man’s time nor his keen attention, his singular consideration. His senses appraise your reactions, missing nothing: eyes scanning for changes in color, pupil dilation, evaluating your choice in skirt length; ears listening for that little hitch in your breath that comes when he calls; fingers seeking out the soft places that give way to his touch; nose taking in the scent of your new shampoo; finally, his tongue on your lips, warm and lush, tasting you, all in the name of the scientific method, gathering data.

Because that’s what you are to him. Data. But you shouldn’t take offense – that’s what everything is to him: a collection of data that can be arranged and played with to suit his desires. A random sample of facts and figures that give rise to a most useful series of “if, then” constructs:

_“If I touch her here, then her back arches and her eyes close.”_

_“If I bite the nape of her neck, then she’ll whimper in a most attractive way."_

_“If I slap her, then she immediately becomes wet…”_

Each sliver of information leads to more constructs, and so it goes, on and on and on. You are in the process of being learned, like a bit of algebra, or a linguistic declension.

He is, in fact, becoming fluent in you…

…which is both flattering and frightening. Flattering for the obvious reasons – frightening for other, equally obvious reasons. After all, he is human. He’s flesh and blood and psychologically flawed to boot, chock full of emotions that he can’t always process correctly. In times like these, his fluency in you can become a weapon – transforming you into an exceptional experiment in hostile manipulation:

_The time he hired that boi and made you watch._

_The time he used you to settle a debt._

_The time he sent you to the hospital_.

And while you know all of this and remember each incident in excruciating detail, you still return to that flat, whenever he allows. In fact, you dread the day that he finally learns everything there is to know about you, because you know that will be when all of this ends – the bad parts and the good parts.

Once all of your unknowns become givens, you’ll be shown the door.

He’s never vocalized this, of course -- any of this -- but you know it to be true, and his growing fluency is matching pace with your spiraling irrelevance. One day, not too long from now, you’ll know what it‘s like to be known completely by him, but on that same day you’ll fall out of his orbit forever.

So, you try not to think of the future. In the time you have left, you savor his curious stare, his calculated kindness, the feel of his fingers on your hips and the words he whispers whenever you cum…

…because soon, these memories will be all you have left.


End file.
